


Unbreakable

by hoywfiction



Series: The Pieces of John and Bellamy [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellamy can't sleep, M/M, Murphy has PTSD from the Grounders, Set between S2E5 and S2E6, The Pieces of John and Bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 18:32:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7325842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoywfiction/pseuds/hoywfiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone assumed that John Murphy was unbreakable. Bellamy knew a little better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unbreakable

At the least, the stars were extremely beautiful from the ground. Up in space they were nothing special, just something you'd glance out a window as you passed by. Here, they were almost magical. Little lights that seemed to rain down during the night, bringing some sort of hope. False hope, sure, but hope all the same.

And to think, everyone was too busy sleeping to see them. John snickered to himself, lolling his head back to rest against the wall of the drop ship. Every fibre of him screamed that he shouldn't be here, that the only company he had in this place now was the fried Grounder corpses and any danger that was lurking in the dark. But yet here he was, more comfortable against the metal wall of the stupid ship than he ever could be inside Camp Jaha. No Clarke to glare at him like some sort of monster, no Raven to explain how worthless he was, no Kane or Griffin to tell him what to do...

"Murphy!" Oh, of _course_. Of course Bellamy fucking Blake would follow him out here.

"The hell do you want?" he replied as dully as he could manage, taking a swig from the bottle in his hand. The other boy looked him over, eyes flickering around their old camp before walking over to him. He simply sat beside him, which was sort of strange in John's eyes.

"What are you doing out here?" he eventually asked, looking over at him quizzically. "It isn't safe."

"Yeah, well, nothing on this goddamn planet really is," John responded, pausing a moment before holding his alcohol out in offering. To his surprise, Bellamy actually took it, tossing some back before returning it to his hand.

"Can't sleep, can you?" It was more of a statement than a question, and John couldn't help but snicker at it.

"Careful, Bellamy. Talk like that and I may actually start thinking you care," he said in reply, looking up towards the sky as he downed as much liquor as he could. When he was really little, his mother had taught him that the stars were the people that had died. He'd believed it when he was five years old, and despite no longer believing, he liked to pretend she'd been right. That she and his father were up there now, looking down at him. Yet again, with all he'd done, maybe he should be grateful that it had been nothing more than a fake story.

"You talk in your sleep." It snapped him back into reality, and he looked over at the other boy for an explanation. "You say things like, ‘please don't’, and ‘stop’. Then you wake up and you leave the camp. Come here I guess."

John was out of alcohol by this point, maybe a drop or two was left. But he pretended to drink anyways, avoiding his companion's eyes. "You watching me sleep now?"

"I know being tortured by the Grounders affected you." He flinched at that, despite trying not to. "I know you don't show it but you—"

"You don't know shit," John cut him off, voice firm but weak at the same time.

"I know that it broke you." And that's all it takes for him to snap, to fall apart completely right in front of the one person he'd always felt the need to be strong in front of. Hatred towards himself bubbled in his chest as he tried to stop himself from crying, but emotions (and alcohol) had taken over him. So the invincible, heartless, uncaring John Murphy cried.

"Shut up," he choked out, hiding his face from Bellamy. Maybe he wouldn't notice... But of course he did.

"Murphy..." The way he said it was borderline affectionate, or at least it was said in the kindest way he'd heard his name said in years. He only cried harder, and maybe he was drunk, or delirious on lack of sleep, but he thought he felt an arm around him. "You're safe now, alright?"

"No I'm not!" He wasn't imagining it, Bellamy really _did_ have an arm around his shoulders and had let him rest his head against him. Against his chest. John's voice was broken and waterlogged and he couldn't explain what had gotten into him if he tried. "You all hate me, would put a knife through me if you had the chance—"

"Murphy, stop it." He may have been bad at following orders, but this time, he'd give it a shot. "We won't hurt you. You're one of us."

"You threw me out," he replied, but despite the words he didn't try to move away from Bellamy's touch. He didn't understand it, but it was the first time in a long time that someone had touched him in a way that wasn't threatening and that was voluntary.

"You tried to hang me," Bellamy pointed out, and when John looked at him he was smirking with an eyebrow raised. So despite himself, he let out the slightest bit of laughter.

"Bygones," he said as he situated himself comfortably, feeling a sudden drowsiness overtake him. A silence took over the abandoned camp for a few moments, but no longer.

"Why didn't you say anything? About the nightmares, or how some things make you panic—" Bellamy began.

"That they broke me?" John finished, his eyes closed as he felt himself starting to slip away into sleep. He wondered if he was imagining the arm around his waist, if he was imagining Bellamy altogether. "Because I didn't think there was anything left to break..."

The other boy's words just barely processed in his tired mind. "You're a good guy, Murphy."

He chuckled slightly, a soft and quiet sound that Bellamy hardly caught. "You should be a comedian."

The curly haired boy had to laugh some at that, watching John sideways as he began to slouch against his body, exhaustion finally catching up to him. He knew that John may not remember much of this tomorrow, that he may wake up in the morning and ask what the hell was going on, but for now, this was how things were. John, that's who he was in this moment, because Murphy was the person that his life had _forced_ him to become, not who he really was. "Well... If I can make you smile, I bet I could make anyone."

The other boy didn't say anything. The only response was his deep, rhythmic breaths, and Bellamy grinned softly as he too closed his eyes. This didn't make sense, the whole situation, but it was something they both needed. Or at least he thought they did.

"Bellamy?" He opened his eyes as he suddenly heard the quiet, almost childlike voice, but John's eyes remained closed. "'m sorry I tried to kill you."

He would have laughed out loud if he weren't trying to let him fall asleep. "I'm sorry I tried to kill you, too."

For once the woods around them were still, forgiving. Peaceful. The stars cast just the right amount of light down upon them and the moon hovered over the drop ship, high and proud. In a picture perfect sort of scene all that breathed were two boys; one broken, one breaking, but both, for once... safe.


End file.
